


Sublimation

by habenaria_radiata



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Mutually Dubious Consent, PWP, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2019-01-30 14:05:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12655029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/habenaria_radiata/pseuds/habenaria_radiata
Summary: Abel had been certain that gifting Hibiki a piece of his magic would be helpful. Just a boost, just a tiny advantage to help him out since the universe was so intent to pit him up against a bunch of fucking space monsters from hell.But it wasn't as helpful as he'd hoped. After Polaris' regression of the world, Hibiki had vanished without a trace, as if he'd never existed at all.Left with no other alternative, Abel and Yamato agreed to an uneasy partnership to find Hibiki, even if they had to brave Hel to do it. They just hadn't been prepared for the other things they'd have to brave.Post Septentrione Arc





	Sublimation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katraa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katraa/gifts).



* * *

 

 

  
  
    They had seen nothing but trees for what felt like years. They weren't even nice looking trees, just creepy, gnarled monstrosities curling up from the lava rock like fingers. Their branches were stripped of anything approaching 'verdant', leaving nothing but papery bark that peeled back from dark spots of naked wood.  
  
    Abel was used to them; was used to sailing around for days without anything new to break up the scenery. The monotony wasn't unusual for him, but it clearly was for Yamato. He already looked tired and irritated, his lips tight and his brows creasing with every stretch of yet more goddamned trees. Abel hardly cared, though. It was about time Yamato had to sit back and deal with a place someone else knew better than him. He was less smug that way.  
  
    Abruptly, Yamato stopped and jerked his head towards him. Abel tilted his legs forward and slid to a halt to stare back at him. "What?"  
  
    "Have you felt anything at all?" he asked, his voice terse. Yamato's tone irritated the fuck out of him.  
  
    "Jesus, you're like a kid on a road trip," he snapped. "Didn't you just ask me that like five minutes ago? I'd tell you if I did. For fuck's sake."  
  
    Yamato's gaze was so utterly baleful that Abel was tempted to stick his fingers in his mouth and jam them into the man's ears just to ruin the whole rest of his year. He did not, though, instead folding his arms tightly and glaring as Yamato held his wrist in front of him and peered at his watch. "I haven't spoken to you in three hours."  
  
    Abel fell silent.  
  
    He glanced at his own phone a little suspiciously, but Yamato was correct. Neither of them had so much as uttered a syllable to one another in that amount of time. With a clear of his throat, he slid his phone back into his pocket and thrust his arms out on either side of him. "Well, I _did_ tell you my sense of time is completely fucked," he conceded, only a little grudgingly.  
  
    He kicked off again before Yamato could curl his lip at him as he was undoubtedly going to do, but he still wasn't able to escape the scoff that left him. "Then perhaps you ought to think twice before criticizing someone else with a much better handle on it," Yamato said to his turned back. Abel stiffened but continued on. Ass.  
  
    Now that Yamato had brought it up, it did make Abel nervous that he hadn't felt any sign of life in so long. Whether or not Hibiki realized he was doing it, every so often he'd snatch enough of Abel's magic to make it go haywire. He'd almost lost an arm when his connection with Beldr had temporarily disappeared, and for several panic stricken minutes, Abel had been unable to fly. Hassle though it was, it was the only way they even knew Hibiki was still alive at all. The sudden lack of chaos was more disturbing than the alternative, but there was nothing they could do about it save to continue pressing on.  
  
    Abel sighed and rubbed a thumb between his eyes. He lifted his jaw and caught sight of what appeared to be a clearing just up ahead. It wasn't much, but it would be an ideal place to take a breather so he could try and feel Hibiki out again. If Abel concentrated hard enough, he could get a vague sense of where he was, like he was some long displaced part of Abel's body. It was bizarre, but so far it was all they had to go on. Otherwise they'd be fucked, and so would Hibiki, because there was literally no end to Hel. As far as Abel could tell, it was infinite in every given way.  
  
    "Come on," he bid, tilting his head towards Yamato. "Just a little further and we'll take a break. I'll see if I can pick him up again."  
  
    He slowed down just enough to let Yamato catch up with him. For as strong and powerful and in control as Yamato was, his agility left a _lot_ to be desired.  When the man was once more abreast of him, Abel pushed forward and dropped his gaze once more. The fog was definitely getting thicker. It was heaviest right above the ground, so thick and swirling he couldn't even make out Yamato's boots. He may be slow and lame, but the fact that Yamato hadn't tripped and fallen flat on his face was admittedly pretty impressive.  
  
    Eventually they came upon the clearing and slipped between the trees. Immediately, the fog dropped away to reveal the darkly marbled lava rock below. It was hardly the strangest thing he'd ever seen here, so Abel paid it no mind, but Yamato was rather more guarded. He surveyed the area with his shoulders stiff and his eyes narrowed, but Abel ignored him in favor of sinking down and leaning against a tree. "Alright, just give me a little bit."  
  
    Yamato scoffed once again and stepped before him to leer down at Abel. "You'll have to be more specific."  
  
    "Oh, right." Abel frowned and drummed his fingertips along his chin. "Fifteen minutes? Maybe? That seems like kind of a lot, but at this point I'm kind of a shitty judge, so...let's do that."  
  
    He tilted his head back and settled in, his eyes closed and his hands loose against his knees. Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing. He had been able to feel Hibiki more than once, but Abel still wasn't entirely sure what actually triggered it. Each time seemed like a lucky fluke. If the piece of magic Abel had gifted him really did forge a physical connection to him, then it did make sense that it would be so difficult to try and pick him out amid all his other 'parts'.  
  
    He'd tried to explain as much to Yamato, but Abel wasn't sure he really understood it himself. It was hard to put into words. Since the day he became King of Bel, the other Bels were intrinsically a part of him. Their powers were as much his own as his sense of touch or taste, and each time one of them vanished, presumably to be used by Hibiki, it was every bit as disorienting as the sudden loss of proprioception or sight.  
  
    Yamato's voice cut straight through his musings and jarred him right out of his reverie. "Your fifteen minutes are up."  
  
    "Already?!" Holy shit. Abel blinked and shook his hair out of his face. Man, that was completely unsettling. Yamato appeared nonplussed, but he didn't actually look annoyed. Perhaps he was more patient than Abel ever would have guessed.  
  
    As if to confirm as much, Yamato nodded shortly and folded his arms. "Do you need more time?"  
  
    Probably, Abel did, but no matter how much he might need it, it didn't really matter, because they didn't _have_ it. The longer they spent looking for him, the longer Hibiki remained in danger. After a few seconds debating with himself, Abel shook his head and pushed himself up from the rock to sail into the air.  
  
    "No, it's fine. I'll keep looking as we go. I-"  
  
    The oxygen billowed from his lungs. No sooner was he off the ground than he plummeted back down onto it, his knees and his palms slamming into the hard stone. His blood scalded him from the inside out. He felt it boiling in his gut, unfurling like smoke and spiraling through his limbs as pure fire tore through his veins. Abel gasped for air with his nails raking through the dust, and he slowly lifted his head.  
  
    Black leather filled his vision, laces zigzagging up the length of it.  
  
    An erection the size of Abeno Harukas dug into his zipper so hard, Abel thought he was going to faint.  
  
    With another thin slice of air sliding into his lungs, Abel lifted his gaze higher to see Yamato's pale eyes boring into him, his brows etched in either horror or concern or both. "Abel-"  
  
    His breath hissed out from between his teeth. "Go away," he begged. Another intense pang of pure _want_ flooded through him again, throwing him off balance until his cheek dug into the dirt. "Leave." Those fucking boots stayed right where they were as Yamato froze, and Abel jerked, his belly flat to the ground. "Get _away from me_ ," he spat.  
  
    Yamato finally did. Abel's eyes snapped open as the shift of leather filtered through his ears, and he watched the man stumble backwards towards the ring of trees. Panic surged up in him. "No, don't leave me!" The instant the words were reverberating through the empty air, Abel shoved his fingers into his mouth and bit down until he tasted blood. No. No. No. He needed Yamato to get as far away from him as possible, but even as the coldly rational brain was aware of the fact, the rest of him, the hot, desperate part of him writhing in the dirt like a headless snake wanted to sob because _Yamato fucking left him there_.  
  
    What the fuck was happening to him? Or why, rather, because he knew that what was happening to him was that he was dealing with the most agonizing boner he'd ever experienced in is miserable fucking life. But Yamato was unaffected. If something was in the clearing, it shouldn't be torturing him like this. At least, not only him.  
  
    He still had enough mental faculties left in him for his heart to seize up.  
  
     _Hibiki_.  
  
    Had Hibiki been charmed?  
  
    Abel rolled over onto his back, another gasp of air rushing out of him as rocks dug into his kidneys. _Hibiki_ , he called, even his inner voice frantic and cold. He only had a few more seconds before his capacity for rationality deserted him completely, consumed by the fog of lust that was eating him from the inside out. _Please, I need Jezebel give me Jezebel back or I can't_ -  
  
    His coherent thoughts vanished, snuffed out like a candle. He could feel nothing but the unbearable agony of his cock grinding against the metal of his zipper. The numbed tips of his fingers fumbled at his fly, but every second he spent without touch was another second he felt ever closer to the utter collapse of his sanity. A burst of savage anger lanced through him, and Abel's fingernails sank into the material of his pants. He peeled it apart at the seams, the sound of popping thread echoing through the clearing. He didn't stop until the tattered remains of fabric furled pathetically around his hips, leaving his bare cock straining towards the heavens like his own twisted Tower of Babel.  
  
    It was heavy and swollen, his skin stretched so tightly over the veins they looked like a spiderweb made of rope. Fuck, it hurt so much, pulsing in agony with the throbs of his every heartbeat. Even swallowing Babel hadn't been this mindbendingly brutal. Every inch of him was wracked with blistering pain. His skin crawled like someone had injected fire ants directly beneath it, buzzing and burning and driving him out of his fucking mind.  
  
    Abel forced his eyes open and tilted the back of his skull into the ground. Yamato was gone. A whimper of mourning burst from him even as relief coasted through his limbs, and Abel reached down to curl his fingers around the base of his cock and tug.  
  
    The fever inside him turned like a knife. His blinding torment gave way to a blissful ecstasy that tore up his spine and settled between the blades of his shoulders. He tightened his fingers and pumped harder. Even in the face of a pleasure that threatened to choke him, cold nails of fear drove into the back of his neck that if he stopped for even a moment, pain would roar back up the length of his body.  
  
    So Abel didn't. He stroked hard and fast, his spine peeling up from the rock, his head rolled back and his magic swirling over his skin. His sense of time had been irreparably warped, but Abel could feel every screaming second it took to climb the way up to his climax.  
  
    Finally, orgasm flooded through him. His hips bucked beneath his hand as he came with a sharp gasp that twisted into a moan, and he collapsed in a tangle of loose limbs and sweat-slick skin.  
  
    He was still hard as the stone he lay across.  
  
    Abel rolled onto his side and did it again. The bone of his cheek ground against the earth as he brought himself to a second orgasm, and a third, his head brimming with every sexual thing he could possibly think of. He came twice thinking about the silky skin of breasts against his face, four times to the thought of a mouth around his his cock and his neck, to beautiful hands and muscular abdomens and smooth thighs and someone else's erection, and once to nothing more than a disembodied voice whispering _come for me, baby brother_ directly into his ear.  
  
    The longer and more desperately he touched himself, the more absurd his fantasies became. It mattered for him to just fucking _come_ more than it mattered for his fantasies to make sense. It was as if he thought that stumbling upon just the right piece of erotic ephemera would stop it, would end his suffering. But no end was forthcoming. His cock was red and chapped and so raw it almost hurt worse to touch it than it did not to.  
  
    Abel tilted onto his knees, slid his fingers into his hair, and sobbed. It wasn't going to stop. All four of his limbs wracked with tremors as he lay with his face in the dirt. This was his new reality. His body would not decay, so Abel was not afforded even that to look forward to. There was nothing to relieve him. Not his hand, not a person, not his magic. Not even death.  
  
    His back bowed sharply as another searing bolt of pain splintered from the head of his cock up to the base of his skull. He had just enough air in him to utter a hoarse cry before he sucked in a ragged bid for air. "Fuck," he cried. "What do you want from me?!"  
  
    The sensation of hands sliding around his shoulders sent warmth, not overwhelming, blistering heat, but _warmth_ blossoming in his stomach. Dizzily, Abel lifted his head. Yamato crouched before him, his blinding halo of tousled hair swept into his face and around his neck.  
  
    God, he was beautiful.  
  
    Abel had never seen the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, but in that moment, he felt certain he knew what it must be like. Yamato looked to be less of a person and more a work of art, lovingly crafted and inspiring nothing short of awe. Abel was desperate to touch him. He imagined if he reached out for him, if he cupped Yamato's face in his hands, he'd feel the slick glide of marble rather than flesh.  
  
    "I knew you'd come back for me." His voice cracked pitifully as his eyes slipped shut, squeezing a salty tear from between his eyelashes. "I knew you wouldn't leave me here."  
  
    Seeing him there, Abel understood exactly why nothing else had worked. He needed Yamato every bit as much as he needed his heart to pump blood. He needed him more than oxygen. He needed Yamato more than he needed to be alive, because life without him was little more than an eternity of suffering.  
  
    He needed to feel his touch, because only Yamato was cold enough to soothe the raging fire churning throughout his insides.  
  
    His body uncoiled and shot up from the ground, sliding along the length of Yamato's torso.  
  
    "Fuck, I missed you," he gasped. Abel grasped tightly at his pale hair and tilted his head to kiss him. Even his lips tasted like grace. He kissed him hard and deep, as though he thought Yamato hid salvation in the back of his mouth.  
  
    His fingers slid along the inside of Yamato's knees, dragging across the stiff fabric of his slacks. With his heart fluttering like a caged dove, Abel yanked, knocking Yamato's legs out from under him and pulling him across the ground to hover over him.  
  
    The world beneath him was dark, dark as his clothes and his jacket and that fucking tie Abel wanted to wind around his fingers and feel against his neck, but Yamato was so pale. Pale and bright as moonlight, his eyes cold but his skin warm and so soft it made him ache. The pads of his fingertips skated along the smooth curve of Yamato's jaw. Abel swallowed and buried his lips against the shell of his ear.  
  
    "I need you," he breathed.  
  
    Pain still needled at him, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet, but he knew exactly what he needed to chase it away. His magic swept in between them until the tear of cotton sent his blood trilling with ecstasy. Abel plucked at the ripped edges of his shirt and smoothed them back, and he poured himself over Yamato's exquisite body.  
  
    Even now he could feel the coiled strength beneath him. Yamato's fingers were tight and unforgiving against his shoulder, in his hair. Each tug at his roots sent a flood of pleasure thundering down his back. Abel pushed harder where his hips were cradled between his deceptively muscular thighs, panting between his teeth and dragging his hands up the length of Yamato's forearms.  
  
    Abel yanked them away and pinned both his wrists to the ground. "Yamato," he whispered. The tip of his nose traced a path along the back of his ear, his breath hot on his neck. He tilted his head to nuzzle at his pulse point, lust spiking in him as he felt the thud of Yamato's heart against his lips. He kissed that spot, opened his mouth and sucked as his fingers spidered up beneath the hems of Yamato's leather gloves.  
  
    With another burst of magic, he tore them off and slid his hands across Yamato's palms.  
  
    The inside of his mouth felt completely dry. Yamato was better than a work of art. Because unlike a fresco, unlike a beautiful statue, Abel could fuck him.  
  
    He rocked forward and thrust against him again.  
  
    Each of his fingers slid between Yamato's own and squeezed. He had never felt anything like it. Yamato fucking captivated him. With every roll of Abel's hips, every grind of his cock that trapped Yamato's beneath it, he gave another bonemelting moan that made his very soul tremble. It was better than any aria.  
  
    Abel kissed him again and again. His neck, the tender dip along his clavicle, his jaw, his mouth, his ear. He felt driven to give him everything, every part of him, to show him exactly how and why humanity had preserved itself this long.  
  
    "Yamato," he breathed again, his lips brushing against the man's mouth with every heady syllable, "I love you."  
  
    He pulled away from him and buried his face in Yamato's shoulder right before he came. Again, the air left him in a surprised burst, his fingernails biting into Yamato's skin and his hips pinning him hard into the ground.  
  
    He collapsed against Yamato's abdomen, his back rising and falling as he gasped for air.  
  
    Just like the fog from earlier, whatever haze of lust had seized him fell away in an instant. Abel opened his eyes.  
  
    His head was fucking pounding. His throat felt scraped clean by cotton seeds, and he was literally dripping with sweat.  
  
    Abel slammed up onto his knees and stared down at Yamato beneath him.  
  
    "Oh, fuck," he blurted. He let go of his hands as if burned and scrambled backwards on his hands and knees. "Oh, fuck. I-" Yamato sat up, and as desperately as he didn't want to, Abel lifted his head to look at him again.  
  
    His clothes were absolutely destroyed. They both were, and their hair was fucked up and Yamato's skin was covered in dark red bruises because Abel had put them there. His stomach twisted into nothing.  
  
    "...I'm so sorry," he managed, and he ducked his head again.  
  
    He could not fucking believe that he just covered Yamato fucking Hotsuin in jizz.  
  
    Abel couldn't handle it anymore. He snapped his arms out, his magic washing over him until the sordid remains were wiped away, and his clothes repaired themselves.  
  
    He had no idea if it took Yamato minutes or hours to respond. He wouldn't, of course. But eventually he did, slowly moving to stand. "What was that," he asked, his voice perfectly level.  
  
    "I don't know," he admitted. It was true enough. Abel came unsteadily to his feet as well. He could feel the heat from his cheeks, which likely indicated that he was as flushed as Yamato still was. "As best I can guess, H-"  
  
    His lips snapped shut as Yamato frowned at him.  
  
    "....Probably just got charmed," he finished.  
  
    Yamato's response was immediate. "I didn't."  
  
    Abel winced. "Well, I mean...Null Curse, right?"  
  
    At the very least, Yamato accepted that. He nodded grudgingly and turned away from him. "If you're capable of continuing, we need to move."  
  
    Abel wasn't entirely convinced he was capable of continuing, but he had no choice in the matter. He swallowed again and trailed after him with monumental hesitation biting at the back of his neck.  
  
    He was resolute to never, ever tell him. Yamato could think whatever he wanted so long as it wasn't the truth.  
  
    Abel would not tell him that all those things he'd said weren't babbled nonsense. That the overwhelming _feelings_ he'd spouted were genuine; they just hadn't originated from Abel.  
  
    He couldn't be the one to tell him that Hibiki was the one who'd been charmed.


End file.
